


Grace and Rude Will

by Crowgirl



Series: On the Strength of the Evidence [35]
Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: ‘Isthatwhat they taught you at Cambridge.’





	Grace and Rude Will

‘Is _that_ what they taught you at Cambridge,’ Geordie says, breathless, as Sidney collapses back onto the narrow bed beside him, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He could reach out for the pitcher of water by the bedside, rinse his mouth out, but he doesn’t really want to. He likes the taste of Geordie’s body, even the ghosts that linger after he’s washed his hands, or bathed, or brushed his teeth. 

Geordie’s eyes are closed, one hand now loosely gripping the pillow by his head, the other flat against the middle of Sidney’s back, and Sidney takes a moment to arrange himself, dropping a knee over Geordie’s thigh and pulling enough pillow free for himself. His own cock is comfortably cradled between his knee and the groove of Geordie’s thigh, still pleasantly sticky from his own orgasm. His back is nearly flat against the wall but it isn’t uncomfortable.

‘Why do you always say that?’

‘Say what?’ Geordie rolls his head and squints one eye open at him. ‘You’re expecting me to remember what I say now?’

‘No, but -- you always say that -- or something like it.’ Sidney flattens a hand over Geordie’s heart, feeling the steady beat below.

‘Something like what?’ Geordie twists himself, giving Sidney more space on the narrow bed, and props his head on his elbow. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You always make some crack about where I learned to…’ Sidney flushes and waves his hand in a vague way.

‘Suck cock?’ 

‘Something like that.’

‘Well, you _are_ very good at it.’

‘Flatterer.’ Sidney isn’t going to let himself be derailed so he catches Geordie’s wandering hand and pins it firmly on his own hip. ‘But you know what I mean. You always say something like that. Why?’

Geordie snorts. ‘If you’re going to start holding me responsible for what I’m sayin’ when me mind is definitely elsewhere--’

‘Geordie. Come on.’

Geordie drops his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes. ‘I don’t know, really. It comes to mind.’

‘What, you’re surprised a nice boy like me knows how?’

Geordie chuckles. ‘I’m not surprised by anything you know.’

‘So?’ Sidney waits, then sighs and resettles his head on Geordie’s shoulder, feeling Geordie’s arm come around him. ‘What is it?’

‘Why d’you care?’

‘It just -- strikes me as odd, that’s all. That you always say the same thing.’

Geordie is silent for a minute. ‘Trust you to notice the pattern, eh?’

Sidney shrugs. ‘I suppose.’

Geordie’s quiet again for long enough that Sidney’s eyes start to drift shut. Then he feels Geordie’s chest rise under his hand; Geordie sighs and says, ‘It’s not -- I’m just -- surprised you want to.’

‘What?’ Sidney blinks and raises his head, pushing himself up on his elbow so he can see Geordie’s face. 

Geordie gives a one-shouldered shrug, keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Sidney can see him keeping his expression carefully blank. ‘You asked.’

‘You’re _surprised_ I _want_ to?’ Sidney repeats the words for lack of anything better to say. Geordie flushes and rolls his eyes, wriggling his shoulders again.

‘It’s -- nothing.’

‘Rubbish.’

‘You’re going to think I’m daft.’

‘Never.’

Geordie snorts and there’s a moment of silence before Sidney hears and feels him take a deep breath. ‘Remember...remember I told you about when I met Caro?’

‘You said she bought you a drink and listened to you complain about Army training,’ Sidney says, then grins up at Geordie. _‘She_ says she bought you a drink and let you cry on her shoulder about -- mm -- I don’t remember his name.’

‘Kingsley.’ Geordie keeps his eyes fixed somewhere above Sidney’s head. ‘Liked everyone to call him King. Skinny little sod with a big mouth on ‘im; had a nasty habit of starting fights and letting someone else take the punches.’

And Geordie would, of course; Sidney knows without asking. ‘Sounds a bit of a bastard.’

Geordie shrugs, the sheet rustling around his shoulders. ‘I’d know that now -- wouldn’t let him in the door _now,_ but -- well. At the time.’

Sidney nods. ‘At the time.’ He has his own _at the time_ stories, Vic chief among them. Geordie knows some of them. 

‘Yeah, well…’ 

Geordie coughs and shifts position again and Sidney is starting to worry. He can feel Geordie tensing almost defensively and that was not what he had intended by pressing the question. ‘Geordie, I--’

‘He said it was a little closer to the working classes than he cared to get,’ Geordie says. His voice isn’t loud, but it’s clear, clipped, the same tone he uses when repeating an order to Atkins for the third time or trying to get Dickens to heel. 

‘What?’ Sidney pushes himself up on one hand and stares down at Geordie who shrugs again, not meeting his eyes.

‘He said it was closer to the working classes--’

‘What the -- what the _hell,_ Geordie!’

‘Liked it well enough when I did it to him, though,’ Geordie says, propping his head up on one arm with elaborate laziness. ‘And didn’t have any problem fucking me. Should’ve realised at the time that was a bit of a clue.’ 

‘That the man was a complete _bastard?’_ Sidney demands and Geordie grins fondly at him, his free hand rubbing Sidney’s shoulder then falling to cover Sidney’s hand where it’s planted on the mattress.

‘Yeah, something like that.’ Geordie’s grin fades and his gaze drifts away to a spot on the ceiling as he falls silent.

Sidney stays as he is, awkwardly half-sitting and unable to think of anything to say. ‘I--’

‘So, yeah, it comes to mind every now and then,’ Geordie interrupts as though Sidney hadn’t been speaking. ‘I mean…’ He takes his left arm out from behind his head and makes a vague gesture, waving at Sidney.

Sidney waits for him to go on but he doesn’t. ‘You mean… what?’ 

Geordie rolls his eyes. ‘You’re not exactly the sort of rough I got used to.’

Sidney frowns. ‘I -- don’t understand.’

Geordie sighs and pushes himself up, scooting back on the mattress so his back is against the head rail of the bed. He tugs the top sheet out from under his leg and drapes it loosely over himself so he’s covered to the hips. ‘The sort I wanted didn’t want me, all right? And the sort that did… _I_ didn’t want _them,_ so…’ He shrugs, pulling up his knees and letting his hands hang over them. ‘So.’

Sidney stares at him for a long minute, the words slotting together in his head to make a complete and suddenly heartbreaking picture. 

Geordie shakes his head briskly, then reaches out and shakes Sidney by the shoulder. ‘Don’t sit there looking like it’s the tragedy of the bloody century, for God’s sake.’ The corner of his mouth quirks up in a thin mockery of his usual smile. ‘Worse things happen at sea.’

The words echo for a minute in Sidney’s ears: _worse things happen at sea_ and he’s aware that the words, as Geordie says them, are familiar, have been said before in that tone. 

He remembers a passing conversation they had about school friends, Sidney having gotten a birthday card from someone he hadn’t seen since he left Cambridge the first time, and Geordie saying he hadn’t spoken to anyone from his school since before the war and _worse things happen at sea._

Another time and Jennifer teasing Sidney about a girlfriend he’d had -- briefly -- around age fifteen and Sidney laughing back at her -- _isn’t she the one who told you that I was a terrible disappointment?_ \-- and glancing at Geordie to see his expression closed and blank, his eyes fixed on the half-empty beer glass before him. When Jennifer turned away momentarily and Sidney nudged his shoulder, Geordie had glanced up and shaken his head: _Ah, it’s nothin’. Worse things happen at sea._

The only responses coming to him now are not the words he wants to use. All he can think of are pastoral nothings -- _what a terrible experience for you_ \-- and what he wants to do is insist on Geordie understanding that Kingsley’s behavior had been nothing short of atrocious: demanding, inconsiderate, fucking _rude--_

Sidney finds himself moving before he’s aware of having made the decision. He crowds Geordie back against the bedrail, presses them skin to skin together from shoulder to knee, tugging Geordie down onto the pillow so they’re lying almost as close as they can get. 

Geordie’s laughing at him but his hands are tight on Sidney’s shoulders and then close on the back of his neck and in his hair, the hollows of his hands against the corners of Sidney’s jaw pulling their mouths together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [_Romeo and Juliet_](http://www.bartleby.com/70/3823.html) (I know, I know, but it's a good speech of Friar Laurence's, really.)
> 
> Thanks as always to the most gracious of beta readers, [elizajane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane) and the lady [Kivrin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin).


End file.
